


Beer is Proof That God Loves Us And Wants Us to be Happy

by JetGirl1832, tomatopudding



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander is a lightweight, Canon Era, Drunkenness, F/M, Fourth of July, Humour, celebration, drinking too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetGirl1832/pseuds/JetGirl1832, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: The day that they've been working towards for months has finally arrived, and for some this comes with excitement, others dread, and others still the sigh of relief because they can finally go home. So what really happened the night before the constitution was signed?





	Beer is Proof That God Loves Us And Wants Us to be Happy

**Author's Note:**

> SUPRISE!
> 
> Bet you weren't expecting a fic from us were you? Well enjoy and happy Fourth everyone! The following fic is based on a very interesting bar tab belonging to George Washington and seemingly the other members of Constitutional Convention dating to what looks like to be the day before.... In which the modern day equivalent of $15,000 was spent on booze.

Alexander was too engrossed in the letter he was trying to write to think about anything else. The travel back and forth between New York City and Philadelphia felt like it was going to be the end of him, he couldn't wait to be back at home and once he got there he wasn't sure he was ever going to leave again.

He continued to write, half of his mind on the words flowing from his hand and the other drifting to thoughts of his wife and the three children that were waiting there for him. So distracted was Alexander that he startled quite violently when a knock came on the door of his chamber.

"Come in," Alexander groaned, noting the dark ink splotches all over his letter that were making parts of it now illegible.

"Alexander."

There were very few people in his life who called him by his Christian name. His darling wife was one. His dear Laurens had been another. Now, however, there was no question as to who was trying to get his attention. 

"Your Excellency," Alexander said, rising from his chair to greet Washington. 

 

"Well you should come to the tavern across the street," Washington suggested.

"Sir I have work-"

"Hamilton, you will come to the tavern across the street," Washington replied in a firmer tone, "not just at my request but that of General Miles and Mr. Franklin."

"General Miles will understand," Alexander assured his former commanding officer, "Send my regards to those in attendance."

"Come along Hamilton surely you can tear yourself away from your pen and paper long enough to come and join the festivities," George Washington sighed.

Alexander frowned, "I'm sorry sir but it's been days since I've written to my Betsey and now I have ruined this current draft in my haste."

"Hamilton you'll be home tomorrow evening," Washington chuckled, "surely you're wife will understand. Or perhaps," he continued, "I can put it another way. If you do not come to the tavern of your own volition, I will recruit McHenry to come and carry you."

"You have convinced me," grumbled Alexander, "there is no need to retrieve McHenry."

"I thought as much," Washington nodded.

Alexander couldn't help but notice the poorly hidden smirk on Washington's face as he followed the older man out of his room.

While the hotel and the street outside it might have been quiet, the tavern was anything but. The party that Washington led Alexander to was obviously the source of the commotion, particularly since they filled the majority of the establishment. 

He quickly spied Mr. Franklin leading a chorus of men in a raucous drinking son before a firm hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around.

"Hamilton!" James McHenry proclaimed loudly, "You made it after all!"

 

"I was manipulated," Alexander informed him. 

"Barely," laughed Washington, clapping Alexander on the shoulder.

 

"Someone get this man a drink!" McHenry shouted loudly into the throng of men.

Alexander was about to protest but a cup filled with whiskey was placed in front of him by none other that Benjamin Franklin.

"Drink up Hamilton," Franklin grinned.

Alexander looked at the glass mournfully knowing better that to refuse a drink from Benjamin Franklin. He took a sip feeling the liquor burn down his throats and warming his body.

One drink, Alexander decided. Then he would go back to composing his letter to Betsey.

Yet one drink became two, and two became three as the crowd grew to be more and more raucous as the time passed.

The usually stoic James Madison, his demeanor loosened by the nearly obscene amount of whiskey he had imbibed, was leading part of the group in a boisterous off-key sing along.

William Livingston was at a table with General Miles and Washington, clearly engaged in a tale (of likely flourished) heroics.

While Alexander found himself near McHenry and his vision feeling more than a little hazy.

"My darling Betsey," Alexander murmured, his swimming vision focused on the darkness of McHenry's eyes, so very similar to those of his wife, "When did you arrive? Why would you not call upon me in my rooms?"

Alexander ignored the snicker of one of the nearby delegates, how dare they laugh at his wife so? 

"I missed you greatly," Alexander continued, "but who is with the children?"

"Come now, Hamilton, stop this farce."

Alexander frowned. When had his dear girl's voice gotten so low?

"Are you feeling well?" he asked, leaning in close, "You sound quite ill."

"Hamilton!" McHenry shoved Alexander so hard that he fell out of his chair, "What the devil is wrong with you?"

 

"McHenry, my boy, settle yourself," Franklin said jovially as he placed yet another cask of liquor on the table in front of them, "He is inebriated, nothing more."

 

Alexander groaned from his spot on the ground, his vision was less blurred now but the room was spinning. "Well if you aren't my wife," he tried to hoist himself to his feet, "then I must go and write my letter, Betsey will be expecting to hear from me."

 

Franklin extended a hand and Alexander accepted the assistance readily, stumbling into the older man once he'd finally made it to his feet.

"I-I needed paper," Alexander insisted, "Who has paper?" Alexander glanced around frantically, at least if he could compose his letter tonight he could dispatch to his wife and darling children with the early morning post.

"Perhaps young Hamilton should retire to his room," Franklin suggested, "Come, Hamilton, I will escort you."

"To paper?" Alexander asked plaintively. 

"To paper and pen," confirmed Franklin, "Gentlemen, I will return shortly."

Alexander did his best to not trip over his own feet as he was led back to his rooms and rather unceremoniously plopped into the chair. Alexander inhaled pushed away his earlier draft of his letter before cracking his fingers to begin again. This time he would get it right, because thankfully Washington and everyone else was too busy to disturb him.

 

The next thing Alexander knew, he was startled into wakefulness by a knock at his door. He jerked into a seated position, the paper stuck to his cheek. 

"Yes?" Alexander called out, then winced when the volume of his own voice sent a lancing pain through his skull. 

"Time to go down to the hall," the voice of James Madison called out to him.

Alexander yawned and peeled the page from his face, how in gods name was Madison sounding so awake at this time.

He was still fully dressed from the night before, so Alexander carefully made his way to the door and opened it. Madison's appearance belied the upbeat tone of his voice. The man looked haggard, bags heavy under his eyes. Although, Madison was often sick so there was no way of knowing whether the bags were from excess of liquor or his latest illness.

"Hamilton, you may want to freshen up a bit before we go," Madison seemed to be pointedly looking at Alexander's face.

"As if you are one to speak to appearances," Alexander muttered.

Madison gave him a long-suffering look until Alexander heaved a sigh and retreated back to the mirror in his room. 

Looking at the glass Alexander let out a gasp, "Good lord!" 

On his face in dark black ink were the words "my darling Betsey.”

It began high on his right cheekbone and extended all the way to his ear. The ink was stark against the paleness of his skin. In the doorway, Madison snickered.

"I need to get this off," Alexander poured water into the washing bowl and began to scrub profusely.

"You have approximately five minutes before we need to be down the hall," Madison informed him, "Unless, of course, you would prefer that your signature be omitted."

"Like hell am I going to let that happen," Alexander practically snarled before giving up, "I'm a New York delegate and I've been working at this for far too long to let that happen." 

Alexander straightened his cuffs and grabbed his hat without even bothering to retie his queue or apply any powder to his hair.

When they arrived, the other delegates were already present, most of them looking a bit worse for wear. Only Washington appeared to have not been affected and was as put together as usual, his eyes sharp and focused.

Alexander couldn't help but wonder just how that was possible considering that he was certain that drinks were poured late into the night.

"Do you have your wits about you this morning, Hamilton?" asked Franklin.

"Ah, yes sir," Alexander assured, slightly unsure as to what event Franklin was referring.

"Good," Franklin nodded, "then you may want to apologize to your friend McHenry."

"Yes sir," agreed Alexander readily, "of course."

With that settled, Franklin called the room to order.

"Gentlemen for the past four months we've been fighting and deliberating to create this document," Franklin began, "and while most of you still disagree with the contents we have relinquished to allow amendments as our country changes and grows-"

Alexander felt himself fading in and out on Franklin's words, he would sign this damn constitution and while he respected Gouvernor Morris as a friend he strongly felt that resulting "constitution" was a shallow remnant from where it had started.

As Franklin continued to speak, Alexander let his eyes roam through the room. Many of the faces he saw reflected his own feelings. It was clear that many of the men signing the constitution today, while not exactly under duress, weren't particularly pleased with the document itself.

Still it was admittedly a step forward, and when it came down to it Alexander went and signed his name alongside the rest of the New York delegates.

 

Although he nodded the snickers from some of the men as they noticed they very distinct markings upon his cheek.

What little energy Alexander had gained by being up on his feet had faded by the time the convention officially came to a close with Franklin's final comments after all the signatures had been collected. Like most of them men there, Alexander was more than ready to be home and he found himself fading into sleep only a few minutes into the trip.

Alexander awoke as they approached his home on Wall Street. In the soft evening light his home looked so inviting, an especially after the long absence there was nowhere else Alexander wished to be.

He was perhaps not as quiet as he should have been in unlocking the front door and entering his home, so happy was Alexander to be there once more. He hefted his case in one hand and made his way upstairs to where he heard the voices of his beloved. 

Eliza was helping five year old Philip into his nightdress, singing his favorite lullaby in gentle tones.

Angelica clung to her mother's skirts with her thumb in her mouth but didn't stay there upon seeing her father.

"Papa!" Angelica cried out.

She nearly tripped over the hem of her slightly too long nightdress in her eagerness to toddle over to Alexander and throw her small arms around his legs. Alexander chuckled and placed a gentle hand on the top of her head where her long hair was twisted into multiple coiled braids. 

"Hello, dear heart," Alexander greeted her.

"Papa miss you," Angelica pouted.

"I missed you too my Angel," Alexander swept her up in his arms and went to his wife, "did you miss me dearest?"

"With all my heart," Eliza confirmed, kissing him sweetly on the cheek, "You look tired."

"It's been a long week," sighed Alexander.

"I figured as much from your letters," Eliza rest her head on his shoulder.

He felt another small body as Philip tugged at his frock coat, Alexander smiled, "Shall we put you and your sister to bed?"

Once the two older children were tucked into their beds, Alexander briefly checked in on the youngest member of their family. He gently stroked Alexander Junior's chubby cheek and the one year old shifted slightly in his sleep. 

Having officially reintroduced himself to all three of his children, Alexander retreated to his and Eliza's chamber.

Eliza had retired a few minutes prior and had already begun undressing, her dress and petticoats being laid gently across the chair on the corner as she began working at her stays.

"Let me do that," Alexander went over to his wife letting his hands linger just a little longer than necessary on her waist before unknotting the corset, as it came apart Eliza let out a deep sigh.

Alexander dropped the corset and wrapped his arms around Eliza holding her close breathing in her scent.

"I missed you terribly, Betsey," he murmured into the crook of her neck. 

"I missed you too, Alexander," Eliza turned to face him and leaned in for a kiss.

 

Before they could exchange more than a few short kisses, the rapping of small fists came at their bedroom door. With a sigh, Alexander separated from his wife and went to open the door. 

He had expected to see one of his children, but it was a bit of a shock to see all three. Philip had Alexander Junior in his arms and Angie was behind him, her hand gripping the back of her older brother's nightdress. 

Alexander let out a sigh, it seems that his original plans for the night were to be on hold. "My dear Betsey we seem to have company."

Eliza chuckled, "I suppose we must allow them access. They have missed you."

"Please can we stay with you tonight?" Philip asked, his eyes wide.

Who was Alexander to say no? After all he's missed them too, "Very well."

Angelica breezed past them and jumped right in the middle of their bed.

By the time Alexander had gotten changed into his night clothes and released his hair from its queue, all three children were curled together in the center of the bed, bracketed on one side by Eliza who was stroking Philip's hair.

"Papa!" Angelica called out patting the bed.

Alexander smiled and crawled in beside his daughter pulling up the blankets around them.

"I'm glad you're home," Eliza murmured. 

"Me too," responded Alexander just before sleep overtook him.


End file.
